THE COST OF SUCCESS by W. B. Foster

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Feb 25, 1902

THE COST OF SUCCESS.

By W. B. Foster

W. B. Foster, in Good Cheer.

Most men in this world would elect to be in the ranks of the successful if it were not for the cost. Success does not come without effort, and the exercise, often, of a dogged perseverance and patience which few possess. There has been a great deal of talk lately regarding the “lack of opportunity” and the “impossibility of success” facing the coming generation. Here are two rules which will always carry a man to the summit of success: Find the work for which nature has fitted you. Having found it, persevere.

This is a pretty swift age, and America is a swift country. The young man of to-day is not content to grow slowly; if his small store of to-day is not a huge “emporium” next year, he will feel himself far behind in the race.

Many years ago there was a small manufacturer in the west of Scotland who for some time had been making a class of goods which had brought him some little local fame, but he wished to branch out and increase the output of his house; therefore, packing up a quantity of samples, he went to London and called upon one of the largest drapers of that city. He entered the crowded shop, with its throngs of customers and bustling clerks, and, after waiting a reasonable time, laid down his pack, put his bonnet and staff upon the counter, and in his broad dialect inquired for “the head o’ th’ hoose.”

One of the clerks asked, in no kindly tone, what he wanted, and the old man “speered” in return as usual: “Want ye aught in my line, sir?”

“No,” was the prompt reply, accompanied with a look of contempt at the mean appearance of the Scot.

“Wull ye no tak’ a look at th’ gudes, sir?” queried the manufacturer.

“No; I haven’t the time,” replied the clerk. “Take them away, take them away!”

“Ye’ll aiblins [perhaps] find them worth while; and I doubt na but ye’ll buy,” said the old man; and he proceeded to untie his bundles.

“Go away; go away!” repeated the clerk, but the persevering Scot kept on as if he did not hear. Finally the enraged clerk pushed the pack, with its now exposed contents, off the counter. “Get along!” he shouted.

The manufacturer looked at the excited little fellow in amazement, but he did not lose his own temper. Casting his eyes over his scattered property, which lay at his feet, he said: “An’ wull ye no really buy aught? But ye dinna ken, for ye ha’ na seen the gudes yet.” So saying, he slowly gathered up his samples, and replaced them on the counter.

“Get out of the shop, sir!” was the sharp order. “Air ye in earnest, frien’?”

“I certainly am!” declared the clerk; and as a proof of his sincerity he picked up the Scot’s bonnet, and flung it out into the street.

The tall old man stalked into the street, coolly picked up his head-gear, beat it two or three times on the doorpost to relieve it of the accumulated dust, and re-entered very composedly, looking across the counter with a broad smile at the clerk who had served him so meanly.

“You was but an ill-faur’d turn; ye’ll sure tak’ a look at the gudes noo.”

The master draper, who had stood all the while in the shop, feeling no little compunction for the unceremonious way in which the old man was being treated, now came forward and examined the samples himself. He found them to be articles of which he was really in need, and ended by giving the manufacturer an order which was the foundation of a great manufactory which has flourished for several generations.

Most men would have stalked out of the draper’s shop in anger at the first rude rebuff; the man who persevered, even in the face of insult and ill treatment, succeeded.